


3:14

by Anon6285_omo (Anonymous6285)



Series: Beatles Omorashi [32]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anon6285_omo
Summary: Paul has a nightmare basically...
Series: Beatles Omorashi [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612729
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	3:14

Paul ran as fast as he could up the street, slipping with every step he took, the rain making it much harder than it looked. Something was still chasing him, and although he wasn’t quite sure what the hell it was, it was scary. And big. 

And oh, god, it was catching up with him. Fast. 

He sat up in his bed in a cold sweat, deep breaths tearing through his lungs as he calmed down a bit. He looked around and realised he hadn’t really been chased. He was still in his hotel room across the room from John. It must have been a dream. 

With a sigh of relief, he went to lay himself back down and felt a cold, wetness on his legs. Shit. And sure enough, when he peeled under the blanket to see what had happened, it smelled heavily of piss. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, turning his head to see the clock. 3:14 am. No way he was getting up now. He would have to go all the way down to the laundromat downstairs in the lobby, and then shower, which was sure to wake John. Surely, he could wait till morning. 

He closed his eyes back again, and thankfully, he was tired enough to fall back asleep again. 

-

But whe. He woke back up the next morning, his problem was even worse. Piss was now soaked deep into his shirt and probably the mattress, too. And John was already up and getting dressed. 

“Morning, princess,” he said when he saw Paul’s open eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“F-fine,” Paul replied simply, trying to steady his breathing as best as he could. 

“What’s the matter with you? You’re acting weird.”

“What? N-no, I’m not.”

John rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Get out of bed. Brian’s gonna come get us any minute.”

“John,” Paul whispered. He had to tell him. As he moved around in his cold puddle, he realised that there was no way he could hide this from his friend. 

“I mean, you know how he gets…” John rambled on. 

“John,” Paul repeated a bit louder, tears stinging at his eyes, but he willed them away. 

“Yeah, what is—?” But then he turned around and saw Paul’s face. “Whoa, hey, what’s the matter?”

Paul’s face turned a ghostly white, and John glanced from his face around the room. 

“Why do you look so scared? Did you have a nightmare or something?” When the bassist still did nothing, John got more worried. “What the hell, Paul? Are you okay?”

“I’m f-fine.”

John shook his head. “No, you’re not.” When he got closer to the bed, Paul visibly tensed. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m gonna have to get Brian. We have an interview, and if you’re sick—“

“Don’t get Brian! I’m not s-sick. I just….” He trailed off, looking down at the blanket. 

“Paul? You just what?” Paul shook his head, and John huffed, sitting down on his bed. “Macca…” he said softly, eliciting a small sniffle from the younger man. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” he started. “But it wasn’t even that bad! There was just something chasing me, and I c-couldn't run, and…” He willed his shaky hands to start lifting the blanket over him. And John could smell it. 

His eyes trailed down Paul’s body as the blanket was lifted off of him, meeting the almost completely soaked body of his friend. 

“Oh, love…”

Paul closed his eyes tightly to will away the tears. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Paul. We’ll just get this all taken care of. Why don’t you hop in the shower and I can get everything down to the laundry rooms in the lobby.”

Paul stares at him. “John, you don’t have to—“

“Paul, just shower, okay?”

“John—“

“Macca… please, we’ve got to have this taken care of quickly, and it’ll be a lot easier if we’re both helping, yeah?” Paul nodded. “Alright. Clean yourself up and throw me your clothes.”

-

A knock on Brian’s door was enough to get him to open it this morning. He had been in a horrible mood, as he usually was when they had a set time for something and they were all late. 

He swung the door open to find John with an armful of sheets and wet pyjamas. 

“John, what are you—?”

“Could you take these down to the laundry rooms real quick? And maybe get some fresh ones? Thanks.”

Before Brian could even say anything, John had dropped the bundle into his arms with a smile. “Wh—“ Brian smelled the sheets. “Did you piss yourself?”

“No, but Paul did. He’s in the shower now.”

Brian stared at him. “What the hell happened?”

“Nightmare,” John replied as he started to walk away, and Brian was silent. 

-

As soon as they were all in the car later and it started to drive off, Brian turned to Paul. 

“You feeling better?” he asked, and Paul blushed. 

“W-what?”

“John said you had a nightmare.” 

Paul tensed. “O-oh, er, yeah, I’m feeling alright.” The bassist glanced over at John, who only looked away. 

“I’m glad. I got your sheets taken care of.”

That’s when Paul’s heart skipped a beat, and George and Ringo both looked over at him. But John seemed to only shrink in on himself. 

“My sh-sheets?” he replied with a fake confusion, which Brian didn’t seem to catch.

“Yeah. Didn't you pee the bed?”

George and Ringo glanced at each other as John but his lip. “Oh, Bri, you really shouldn’t have… said that..”

But it was too late. Paul put his hand up to his face and sobbed. As he started to whine softly, Brian’s eyes widened. 

“Oh, God. I didn’t… god, sorry, Paul.”

John put a hand on the small of Paul’s back, rubbing it gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I needed help cleaning everything up.”

“I could have bloody helped you. And now everybody knows! It’s all your fault, John!” More tears ran in streaks down his face, and George looked at him. 

“It’s alright, Paulie. Neither of us are judging you or anything,” he assured his friend, but Paul didn’t seem to care. 

John glared at Brian, who mouthed, ‘sorry’, but John didn’t stop glaring at him. He hugged Paul a bit tighter as he cried some more.


End file.
